


Prompt-a-palooza

by heart_trademark



Category: Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Youtube RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alien Invasion, Aliens, Apocalypse, College, Cosplay, Fluff, Funny, Humor, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3947758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heart_trademark/pseuds/heart_trademark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of one-shots based on prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You and your friends have been playing the penis game in the library for the last five minutes and none of you have gotten above a quiet yell and i’m really just trying to study over here so i’m gonna put an end to this by winning the game."

It's not your fault, really. You mean, it's a _library_ for Christ's sake, and you came to the library to study, which is what most people go to the library to do. Most people definitely do not go to the library with their friends to play the penis game. That's absolutely not something that most people do. Apparently, though, those three morons aren't most people.

None of them have apparently gotten noticed by anyone other than you, although, considering the fact that you're sitting on the opposite end of the same table and everyone else was apparently aware of their weird crap and sat as far away from them as possible, you're not surprised. The one with the glasses and messy flop of dark brown almost blackish hair goes next, speaking kind of quietly in an only-just-barely-talking-under-your-breath-kind-of-way, he manages to not really whisper it so much as say it in a rather deep voice. His friends erupt in a fit of giggles which elicits more stares than their game has as of yet.

You take a deep breath. Damn, why did you leave your earbuds in your dorm? Then at least you could pretend to block them out and study somewhat properly.

"Penis!" It's a quiet yell from the bigger one who also had glasses and short hair, and you're sure someone would have noticed and their game would finally be over, but, no, you're not that lucky. A quick glance up from your book - what are you doing just keep fucking reading stop playing their game with them - and you see that everyone else is still going about their business. Either everyone really is that absorbed in what they're doing that they haven't noticed yet, everyone in the immediate vicinity is totally deaf, or they're just trying to ignore them, same as you. You hope it's not the latter because if it is then it might be a while before someone ends their stupid and annoying game.

"Penis!" A slightly louder yell, but still somewhat quiet.

You close your eyes, clench your fists, and breathe. A poignant glare in the giggling boys' direction, but they don't notice. Just focus on your studying, focus on your - what are you studying again anyway? It's boring - book and ignore them as best you can.

Blablabla, important thing okay take notes, blabla, that was from that one class when someone brought like four cakes in that's why you don't remember, blablablabla . . . Highlight this, write that, reread, don't remember, you're kind of studying. Mock-studying. It's better than nothing. You'd actually managed to drag yourself to the library which was what people did when they studied, they went to the library. Especially when they had a very annoying roommate who had a tendency to have rather loud and frequent -

"Penis!"

Good god, you can't take it anymore. You ball your fists and slam them on the table out of frustration and anger and who knows what else. No one had noticed their annoyingness, and by gosh if they weren't going to stop playing that stupid game then you were going to make them stop.

You take a deep breath and gather your courage, then shout with all the force you can muster from your lungs: "PENIS!"

The idle chatter in the library stops immediately, and you can feel everyone turning to stare at you. You know what? Screw the library. You can study outside on the benches that you like. You open your eyes and you feel your face flush as you see the cute guy from one of your afternoon classes giving you the weirdest look from across the way. You close your books, gather your things, and stand up. Even the three idiots that were playing the game in the first place are staring at you, slightly wide-eyed. Another deep breath. If you're going to leave the library after that, you may as well make it something of a dramatic exit, shouldn't you?

You saunter up to the boys, trying to channel every sassy internet goddess you've ever known, and as you pass them, you hear yourself say, "Guess I win, huh?" A slight grin forms on the floppy-haired one's face who, wow, up close is actually really attractive. Damn it.

Turning head and heel, you almost trip over a stack of books and you try your best to maintain your dramatic exit walk all the way out of the library. When you get outside and the fresh air hits you in the face, your shoulders fall and you move to collapse against the brick wall next to the door. You drop your bag on the ground and crumple into a pile next to it. So you managed to alienate two cute people in one shot, way to go. So far your college life wasn't going so great. At least there was that one time with the cakes in class . . . 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a somewhat familiar deep voice above you. "So, that was interesting."

You remove your face from your hands and look up and - oh, god - literally groan as you notice the cute guy with the glasses and the floop of dark-brown-blackish hair standing over you, his two friends right next to him, also smiling down at you. He's got his hands in his pockets and a cheeky grin on his face. Yeah, you're totally boned because _wow_.

You pick your bag up from the ground and stand as you speak. "Ha, you think so? Because 'interesting' isn't exactly the word I would use. 'Embarrassing', 'mortifying', or 'humiliating' all seem more apt to describe it. But sure, if you wanna go with 'interesting' . . . " Your voice holds more annoyance than you had intended, but dang it if those three weren't going to feel at least a fraction of the embarrassment you just did. But instead, of course, they laugh. Glasses with floopy-blackish-hair even tosses his head back and looks at his friends like ha-what-a-jokester-this-one-is-huh. God, they think you're joking, don't they?

You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms over your chest. Purse your lips for good measure, too. Floopy-blackish-hair stops smiling when he looks at you again. "Oh, you were being serious," he deadpans.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths . . . 

"Come on, it wasn't that bad. I mean, sure, you might be known as the library-penis-person for a while, but hey, at least it's an interesting story, right?" You glare at the other one, the taller one with shortish brown hair who had spoken. He'd seemed honest enough, like he didn't mean to laugh at your pain, but you were in a mood and that's how it had come across.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure my crush who gave me the absolute weirdest look ever will be so interested to hear this very interesting story from this very interesting encounter." You're bitter as hell, sure, but you're annoyed and more than slightly pissed off at this point, so you can't help it. Frankly, you don't really care to either.

"Hey, you're the one who decided to join in on our game, I don't know why you're getting pissed off at us." Oh, great, now the guy you'd kind of maybe developed a quick little crush on was getting annoyed at you. He had a reason to, not that you would admit it to him, but still. Not acceptable.

You sigh. "Look, I'm not pissed off at you - actually, you know what? I kind of am. This is a library. People go to libraries to do things like study, which is what I was trying to do when you three idiots decided a library was a good place to play a stupidly immature game for teenagers with nothing better to do with their time."

The three of them were slightly taken back by your outburst. You huffed as you pulled your bag back onto your shoulder and side-stepped around them, then strode away as indignantly as you could.

You got quite a ways away, but about half a minute later after you hear two of them laughing and the deep-voiced one with the floop - it was more floof actually, now that you come to think about it - telling them to shut up, he calls out to you, "Hey, wait up!"

You almost don't, but his voice and his hair and his eyes and just . . . yeah. So you stop and you turn around and he's jogging towards you with an apologetic look on his face. His two friends wave at you when you glance in their direction. They're smiling, and though you don't smile back, you offer them a curt wave in an effort to not be _completely_ rude.

He leans to the side slightly when he catches up with you and smiles. You watch him with cold eyes and what you hope is an indifferent expression. Really you're just trying to figure out what exactly it is that he smells like, because he's close enough to you that you can definitely smell him and it's nice but _what is it?_

"Hey, I'm sorry we bothered your studying. But you have to admit, that was kind of funny."

You squint at him and tilt your head to one side in an attempt to look menacing or questioning or whatever, but a small smirk tugs at the edge of your lips. He smiles and you try to glare but that only makes your smirk grow wider. "Shut up," you mumble, shuffling your feet and sheepishly holding your bag with both hands.

"You're cute when you smile. You should do it more often."

A blush creeps over your face and you look back at him, one eyebrow raising as you see his cheeks are slightly reddened, too. "Yeah well you're cute when you breathe, so I mean . . ."

He laughs and it's a strong, deep laugh that _gosh_ is really nice to hear. "So, does that mean that _I_ win this time?" He wiggles his eyebrows at you and it's your turn to burst into laughter.

"Ha, I guess it does, huh."


	2. Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You run in looking really panicked and you ask for 6 gallons of milk _why_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw this one and it just had to be Mark. It had to be. I'm not even sorry this is hilarious. Also it's 5AM so I am not to blame for this.

You can't remember the last time you were this damn _bored_. Sure, working in a corner store isn't exactly exciting, but Saturday nights usually have at least some entertaining drunks wobbling around the street, but tonight . . . nothing. Just a few quiet customers who, though polite, were boring enough that you almost nodded off while ringing up their small purchases.

There's got to be something to do in here, you think to yourself. Some sort of game you can play without getting in trouble in the morning. Technically you're not suppose to leave behind the counter unless it's for a customer, which the store is completely devoid of at the moment. Still, if you could at least walk around the aisles for a little bit -

Movement outside the shop catches your eye. Whoever it is is still fairly far away, and on the other side of the street, but they seem to be in a hurry. You get a little scared as they get closer to the store because holy shit they're fucking _booking it_. And as they get close enough to be illuminated by the street light outside the store you can make out that their expression is just like . . . bug-eyed and freagin' crazy. Not to mention the fact that they're booking it right for _your front door_. What the fuck.

They burst through the door, obviously in a panic, red-faced and out-of-breath, and fast-walk straight to your register. The dude looks like he's gonna pass out on your floor. You know you said you were bored, but calling the ambulance and possibly the police too wasn't on your list of possible cures.

He takes a deep breath and seems to struggle with his words before blurting out, "Can I get six gallons of milk, please?"

You imitate him for a second as your eyes bug out of your head as far as you can manage. "Um, I'm sorry, six gallons of milk?"

It's late and you're tired and bored and this was weird to begin with but seriously _what the fuck_.

He nods his head furiously.

"Er . . . _why_?"

For a moment you feel a surge of panic because he looks like he's about to jump over the counter and rip your head off for not getting him his weird ass request of six gallons of milk. You're about to whirl around calling out that this is so funny and they got you and for whoever's hosting this hidden-camera prank show to come out and laugh at you because this dude cannot be serious.

"Please." It's barely a whisper but you're damned if the poor guy doesn't look like he's about to faint so you nod and leave the confines of behind the counter.

You head to the milk section which is actually in full view of the front register so why the fuck couldn't the guy get it himself? You make sure not to turn your back to him for too long, just in case he's trying to make a mad dash for the register. Not like it would work, but still. You'd rather not get in trouble.

The guy's fishing through his wallet, hands shaking and you notice for the first time really how _god damn_ gorgeous he is. Like, holy shit. Even red-faced and looking slightly-stoned slightly-insane. Tall, chiseled, nice hair . . . Yeah. Anyway.

You grab an armful of milk and haphazardly carry it back to the counter. The guy seems to realize - finally - that six gallons of milk is a shit-ton of milk to carry by yourself so he hurries over to grab some from you before you collapse on the floor in a wet, cold, white mess. Okay, that thought came out wrong - whatever.

"Shit, sorry, forgot that . . . yeah," he mumbles as he grabs probably three quarters of the milk and you both saunter over to the counter, dump the milk, and you proceed to scan each jug.

The guy's shuffling from foot to foot, looking like he's about to explode. Jesus Christ he's fucking crying. What is wrong with this dude?

"Uh, buddy, you okay there?"

He blinks rapidly at you, and you notice that he's been trying to subtly open his mouth and lap at the air with his tongue the entire time he's been in the store. The fuck. "Just really thirsty."

You glance at the money that he already shoved onto the counter - not enough for all six gallons, but enough for one. You hand him the jug you'd just finished scanning. "Here. Drink up. Try not to spill, please."

He nods frantically and takes the jug. "Thanks." He unscrews the top while you watch - in mild disgust - as he chugs about half a gallon. Holy shit.

"Um . . . your total comes to fourteen dollars and fifty-two cents. Cash, I guess?"

He stops drinking, head hanging low. His face at least seems to have lost some of it's red-tint. "Yeah, cash. There's about five bucks there, I think. Hold on." He's out of breath and wheezing but seems to be faring _way_ better than before his milk-guzzling. He puts the jug down and digs into his wallet again.

You're a bit scared to ask, but you have to know. "Do you, uh, do you mind telling me . . . what's with the milk, dude?"

He puts another handful of money on the counter. "That should be enough. Fifteen something. Uh, yeah. It's . . . kind of hard to explain. Okay, not really _hard_ so much as weird, I guess."

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. You count out his money and open the till to make change while you talk. "Weird? Dude, you just ran full on into my corner store, demanded six gallons of milk, practically jumped on me when I asked why, and then chugged half a gallon right in front of me. Plus you looked like you were gonna freakin' pass out most of the time. I think I've seen my fill of weird."

He smirks and, yup, he's totally attractive. You only just noticed how really nice his eyes were, too. Now that they weren't red and puffy and crying. A deep, dark brown that matched his soft-looking hair. "You'd be surprised." Not to mention his voice.

"Hit me. I gotta know."

He shakes his head and laughs. You hand him his change. "Okay, well, uh, wow, where to start . . . " He runs one hand through his hair and his eyes look back up to yours. "I kind of do this hot sauce challenge with my friends whenever they come over. Like, really hot hot sauce. The hottest hot sauce to ever . . . "

"Hot?" You break into a smile. He's freakin' adorable and you are totally gonna slip him your number on his receipt or something. Technically you're not allowed to do that but nobody gives a shit about that policy anyway. Especially not when you're alone in the store at quarter past midnight. But, hey, what else are you gonna do other than sell six gallons of milk to a really cute stranger?


	3. Stop It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "THE APOCALYPSE IS HAPPENING WOULD YOU STOP LIVETWEETING ABOUT IT FOR TEN SECONDS AND PASS ME THAT KNIFE JESUS FUCK”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this in my folders for like so long, intending to write more but ... Idk it just seems finished to me. Everytime I go to write more I can't think of anywhere to bring it. So... here it is, I guess haha.

You're not entirely surprised, to be honest. You'd always joked that out of all of your friends, he would be the one to livetweet the apocalypse. The thing is, though, you never expected an apocalypse to actually _happen_. Still, here you were, chaos and screaming and destruction surrounding you. The seven of you were crouched in an alleyway, trying to figure out what to do next. You'd been walking around the convention floor and had stopped by the autograph booths to say hi to some of your friends when it had happened.

It had started with a bunch of people screaming near the panel rooms. You'd all laughed and joked about 'who just got spotted'. But it hadn't calmed down after a few minutes, it had actually gotten louder. And then you started to hear it. Dissonant whirring sounds, crunching metal, and a constant harsh clicking, like a strange machine rolling around the convention floor.

Pretty much everyone ignored it, preferring to go about their business. When the lights started flickering and the building shook, though, people stopped. And then people had started to come running from the panel rooms, covered in blood and slime and who knew what else, screaming bloody murder. That's when panic started to break out. You'd shared a look with your friends, who were now standing, and when the first of those ... _things_ showed up, you'd all booked it out of the complex along with everyone else.

It had been hours since then, and the city was in total shambles already. Dead and dying bodies littered the streets, and there was trash everywhere. The sky was dark, clouds and _their_ ships blocking out the moonlight. The alleyway was shrouded in inky blackness, and you could barely make out your friends faces around you. Mark, however, was illuminated by the faint blue light from his phone as he tip-tapped away at the on-screen keyboard.

"Mark," you hissed at him, shuffling towards the glow.

He looked up at you, a small smirk still lingering on his face from whatever he'd just read or wrote. His smile faded when he saw the death glare you were giving him. "Sorry," he mumbled as he slid his phone into his back pocket.

Bob, Wade, Molly, and Amanda were huddled with Mark between the two dumpsters, while Jack was kneeling next to corner of the alleyway, waving you over. You gave Mark another quick look of disdain before crawling over to Jack.

"What's up?" You whispered as you crouched behind him, trying to see over his shoulder into the street.

He pointed to something that you couldn't see. "One of them is standing over there. It's been checking alleys. We should probably get going."

You leaned out a little bit to get a better view and, sure enough, one of those _things_ ambled out of an alley across the street. It was a little shorter than most of them, but still probably over 8 feet tall. Thin and lanky with swamp green skin that clung to its weird bone structure in a pattern of cysts and masses. It walked in a broken stride, three knee-like joints bending and snapping back and forth, making its way to your side of the street, just one alley down. You nodded at Jack and the two of you shuffled back to the others.

"One of those things is checking the alleys, we gotta get the hell out 'fore we get caught." The words tumbled from your mouth in a quiet torrent. Instead of answering you, everyone was absolutely transfixed on something behind you, faces frozen in a mix of surprise and panic. You didn't bother turning around, it didn't really matter who or what was behind you, only that it was not nice or welcome. "Grab anything sharp, keep your heads down, and follow me."

You grabbed a piece of glass from the ground and took a deep breath.

1 ...

2 ...

3 ...

Go.

You pivoted on the tops of your feet, swinging around with the glass held out in front of you like a gleaming dagger. You had hoped that it was some crazy, blood-covered murderer looking for someone to fight, but of course you weren't that lucky. The thing towered above the seven of you, one of its weird, twisted-looking arms reaching for you. It obviously hadn't expected much of a fight because it drew back pretty quickly with a loud, surprised-sounding noise when you slashed at its outstretched arm. You jumped back and bumped into Amanda, who helped steady you as you muttered a quiet apology. Bob tugged on both of your shirts and the two of you turned to follow the others and run as the thing was momentarily distracted.

The seven of you booked it out of the other side of the alleyway, desperately searching for a better hiding place. Jack took the lead, with Bob, Amanda, Wade, and Molly in the middle, while you and Mark trailed slightly behind the others. You stopped in a small alcove further up the street. You were all out of breath and panting, and somewhere along the way you'd dropped your impromptu weapon and felt very nervous without it.

You turned to Mark next to you, your mouth half-open to ask for him to pass you something sharp, but he was looking down at his phone again, and you just about let out a loud and annoyed groan. "Mark," you practically spat at him, "the apocalypse is happening would you stop livetweeting about it for _ten seconds_ and pass me that knife!"


	4. Taxi-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from BleedxLikexMe: "I don't know how you got into this taxi while wearing fully functional Iron-Man armor or why we have to share this taxi, but we may as well make the best of it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was shorter than I'd originally intended, but I think it's one of those "short and sweet" type things, ya know? Hope you enjoy this! :)

It was the first day of the convention and you couldn't contain your excitement. You were still a bit disappointed that you didn't get your cosplay together in time, but there was always next year. Besides, it wasn't like you weren't going to have fun without it.

You had promised to meet your friend, Emilia, at the food court in the convention as soon as the doors were opened at 10AM. She was going with her sister and niece, but you hadn't seen your friend in forever, so you were more than happy to hang out with all of them for the day. Besides, Nancy (niece) and Jessy (sister) were fun to be around, too.

People passed by you in all directions, the fuss of city life rushing by as you tried to find a cab. Public transportation was never really your thing, but as far as it went, a taxi was far better than a bus or tram in your opinion.

Holding your bag tightly to your side, you steped off the curb and waved at the traffic buzzing by, hoping to get a cab driver's attention. You noticed someone wearing a full Iron Man suit trudging across the street towards you and smiled to yourself. You'd always loved seeing the intricate cosplays people managed to come up with. It only made you wish you were a little better at it.

A cab pulled up in front of you, taking your attention away from the masked stranger in the red and yellow suit. Bracing yourself for the temperature of the taxi – it was sweltering hot out and you knew that most taxis in the area were kind of shit and probably didn't have air conditioning – you grabbed the burning handle and quickly pulled the door open. You opened your bag and fished your wallet out as you slid into the hot and sticky seat.

"8340 Allison Ave, La Mesa, please. I'll give you an extra ten bucks if you can get me there before 10."

You finally found your wallet as you shut the door and pulled it out to leave it on your lap. You noticed, however, as you were going to put your seatbelt on, that you were not the only person in the cab. In fact, the driver noticed it around the same time that you did.

The Iron Man stranger was next to you in the cab. The light in the middle of their chest was even lit up and whatever they made the suit out of actually gleamed. You wondered how they weren't dying of heat stroke in the boiling California weather.

"Will do, Ma'am. ComicCon by 10 o'clock." The driver tipped his head at you and pulled away from the curb. You were too shocked to mention anything about the fact that you didn't actually know the person in the cab with you.

You turned to mister Iron Man as you buckled your seat belt. They couldn't really do the same, you saw, as they braced themselves on the door and the back of the driver's seat.

"Um, hi," you said, a bit unsure of how to handle this kind of situation.

The stranger lifted one hand to their collar, pressed a button, and their helmet popped up and slid back to reveal their face. Your mouth almost dropped because wow. First of all they had a pretty much fully functional Iron Man suit – how the hell had they managed to get into the cab with that thing without you noticing? – and also holy shit this dude was attractive. Even red-faced and sweaty. Dark brown-black hair tousled around his chiseled face and deep brown eyes that made you want to melt. Not to mention the goofy yet charming smile plastered on said face as he looked at you with said eyes.

"Hey. Sorry to ambush your cab, by the way, I just really need to get to air conditioning. I underestimated how hot this thing was gonna be." He grabbed the collar of his suit as he spoke. Also, his voice was absolute heaven.

You laughed, a bit uneasily, sure, but at least he wasn't being super creepy. And, anyway, you could totally understand being desperate to get to colder interiors. "Heh, yeah, I guess."

He smiled. "My name's Mark, by the way." He reached one hand out to you but then retracted it before you got a chance to reply. "Oh, actually, might not want to touch it. Probably still pretty steamy after being broiled by the sun."

"Oh, right. Um, my name's [Y/N]." You smiled awkwardly and shuffled your bag and wallet around on your lap. There was a short silence before you pointed to his suit. "That's really cool, by the way. Did you make it yourself?"

He nodded. "Yup. Almost took me an arm and a leg, but the whole thing works."

"I can see that. Are you some kind of engineering wizard or something? Because honestly that's super impressive."

He laughed and you almost reached over and grabbed him right then and there. His voice might have been something, but his laugh was like velvet.

"You could say that, yeah. I'm actually an engineering major. Got my degree and everything."

"Oh, that's cool." Mark nodded, and there was another slightly-awkward silence. You bit the inside of your lip, trying to think of something to say. A small smile spread across your lips as you turned back to Mark and said, "Well, I don't know how you got into this taxi while wearing fully functional Iron-Man armor or why we have to share it, but we may as well make the best of it, right?"

He laughed and your smile widened. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."


End file.
